


Holiday Hills

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Wincest, M/M, Schmoop, boys falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:43:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The spirit of Christmas is at work.  The Winchester boys discover the gifts and meaning of Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Hills

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.
> 
> AN #1: Merry Christmas to dear verucasalt123! May your holidays be jolly with friends and loved ones, bright with the spirit of the season, and blessed with love and happiness. 'Ruca asked for schmoopy, cavity-inducing fluff fic as a wishlist item. I'm happy to gift her with this - and I hope it's to her liking!

He’d forgotten this happened. 

He’d been at Stanford, and college kids celebrated Christmas like normal people do – most going home to their families while he stayed on campus.   

He really didn’t think much of Christmas while he was there.  In his life, it had really been just another day at the office, anyway, according to dad.

But not according to Dean.

He’d forgotten about Dean, his own personal Christmas elf. 

*****

As long as Sam could remember, Dean had always loved Christmas.  LOVED it.  He loved the sights (man, those twinkling lights are awesome!), the sounds (corner Santas ringing their bells, carolers wandering the town square), the smells (balsam, pine, cranberry, peppermint) and the jovial moods people tended to be in.  Small town Christmases were his favorite.  Man, nothing better than singing Jingle Bells and drinking eggnog and eating gingerbread waffles at the diner as far as he was concerned.  Followed by a snowball fight or making a snowman or even making snow angels if they were far enough north.  He liked volunteering and giving his time to whatever projects he could in town.  Yeah, you read that right.  Dean.

Dean Winchester was not an emotional kind of guy.  One look at him and you knew it.  Dean didn’t do warm, happy, fuzzies. 

Something though, something in Dean’s head flipped a switch come December 1st every year.  For 31 days, Dean was possessed by some Christmas demon.  

Well.  Sam was pretty sure it was a demon.  Something supernatural, anyway.  Although he could never prove it.  Holy water and salt had no effect.  Silver did nothing.  Exorcisms didn’t work.

Dean was just a misplaced elf come the holidays.  A very happy one, at that.  And it always had puzzled Sam.

*****

Sam had been back hunting with Dean for about a month now.  Thanksgiving had come and gone, turkey dinner special at some truck stop diner before they hit the road again.  It was a Wednesday afternoon, the last day of the month.  They’d stopped at a motel in Holiday Hills, IL. 

Sam hauled their duffles and backpacks into the room, which was wallpapered with snowmen.  He blinked very slowly, looking around the room.  Snowmen was an obvious theme, everything was decorated with them.  _Lovely.  Garish motel room for the Winchesters, check._

Dean walked in behind him with the weapons bag, stopped and did a double take.  “Seriously?  Who decorated this place, Frosty?”  He dropped the bag beside the couch and flopped down on it, turning on the television.  “Sammy, you hungry yet?”

“No Dean, we ate not that long ago.”  Sam placed their stuff on their respective beds, walked over to the kitchenette and frowned.  “Here is what I am sure is a _delicious_ fruitcake for you to enjoy if you are so inclined”, he said, tossing Dean the brick heavy saran wrapped cake. 

“Ugh, dude.  Fruitcake?  I want some pie!” Dean chucked the fruitcake back onto the table and settled in deep to the couch.  “Later, Sammy, gonna get some shut-eye first.”

Sam chuffed and dug out his laptop.  He had some friends he’d wanted to catch up with, so email was his first priority, and then he’d start research on a hunt.  After a while, he was sleepy too, and laid down on one of the beds to grab twenty winks.

*****

Sam woke up early the next morning to the smell of something spicy and comforting.  Something smelled good.  _Wait.  What?_

“Dean?”

“Mornin’ sunshine!”  Dean handed him a cup of…coffee?  Sam sniffed it, recognizing the chai immediately. 

“Um, Dean?”  Sam took a small sip, enjoying what Dean normally considered a frou-frou drink, waiting for the comment about him being girly.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean was slicing something in the kitchenette.  Something that looked suspiciously like fruitcake.

“You got me chai?  And, what are you doing?”  Sam had the most adorable confused look on his face Dean hadn’t seen in ages. _Awesome._

“Dude, I _made_ you chai!  Christmas in a cup, baby brother!  And, there’s an awesome fruitcake here begging to be eaten, so that’s breakfast.”  Dean grinned, and Sam was hit by two things like a punch to the gut that he’d forgotten. 

One:  Dean’s only-for-Sammy grin could light up a room and make his tummy fill with butterflies. 

Two:  The Christmas elf was back. 

*****

After breakfast, Sam cleared the dishes and washed up while Dean went to go get ready for the day.  He’d been spouting fun things to do while in Holiday Hills, and didn’t that just make Sam groan.  There was a town parade that afternoon, and tomorrow at the library they could go learn to string popcorn garlands.  _Seriously?_

What had happened to his big brother?  It was like he had taken a holiday roofie.   He was ecstatic about the sugarplum body wash in the bathroom and when he got dressed, he wore green khaki pants and a deep red flannel shirt.

Sam’s memories of every Christmas spent with Dean came rushing back.  Dean got obsessed.  He got a little holiday psycho.  And Sam could not for the life of him figure out why or begin to understand it.  But he’d just gotten his brother back.  They were together again, like they used to be.  And Sam didn’t want to feel lonely right now, there was an emptiness in his heart, and the holidays, well…they weren’t a normal family, but maybe he and Dean could do some normal holiday things. 

So Sam resolved to just hang on for the December ride, go along with whatever Dean wanted.  Besides, seeing his big brother genuinely happy was something he could easily get used to. 

*****

Dean knew Sam was puzzled by his Ho-Ho-Holiday behavior.  Always had been.  And for all Dean’s machismo and that perpetually gruff exterior, he knew he could only get away with this during Christmas.  He could let go.  He could show Sam how much he loved him, without coming right out and saying it.  Christmas was about family, about love, about home.  It was about Sam.  Dean didn’t know how to tell Sam any other way.  And actions spoke louder than words.  This year, especially, Sam needed to know it.  Needed to feel it.  And Dean wanted to give it.

Dean was a big brother, sure.  But he’d raised Sam.  Growing up, he was everything to Sam, including Santa.  He’d seen the disappointment Sam felt when dad wasn’t there for Christmas.  Knew Sam got teased at school for not having the newest clothes or the latest electronic games and gadgets.  That he felt like Christmas didn’t even matter, because it was always about the next job.  So however and whenever he could wherever they were each December, Dean brought on the holiday cheer.  He felt silly and stupid at first.  But the reactions from everyone made it easy.  Folks liked cheery Christmas-involved people.  They liked Dean’s friendliness to pitch in and help out, to spread cheer even if he had nothing of his own to give but a smile and time.  And when they saw the truth, that Dean did everything for Sam, he unknowingly scored. 

Free food for a feast like they never usually had from food pantries.  Presents from local church groups – stuff they needed like jackets and boots and gloves.  Decorations for their meager lodgings and all kinds of things he never expected from people – just freely given. 

Dean learned over his teenage years that being open and giving and full of heart around the holidays meant that Sam would have some kind of Christmas.  Would have that family and love and a sense of home, wherever they were.  And it became easy to slip into that persona come December 1st.  It felt comfortable.  And he truly did enjoy it; the smile on his face was real.  What Dean did not realize was the true meaning of Christmas crept into his heart. 

*****

Walking through Main Street with Sam, Dean was a chatterbox.  He kept pointing out the displays of lights and trees in shop windows.  He accepted every small-town invite to come in for coffee or cocoa and cookies. 

They stopped outside the town square after lunch, watching the giant tree being erected.  Dean smiled at Sam, “C’mon, let’s go help!”

And Sam shook his head with a grin but followed his brother up the slight incline through the dusting of snow that had started to fall.

They spent all afternoon crawling on ladders, stringing lights, hanging up poinsettia plants and building the large wooden shelter for the live nativity scene that would be on display each night.

Sam was exhausted, and begged Dean for them to have dinner and go back to the motel already. 

Dean looked over at Sam, and took a really good look.  Sam’s cheeks were pink.  His nose and ears were pink.  His hair was windblown every which way, and his lips were slightly chapped.  But his smile.  He had a megawatt smile on his face that displayed his dimples to perfection.  Dean felt warmth surge through him and agreed it was probably enough for the day. 

*****

At the diner, they both had the prime rib special.  Hearty appetite after a full day of outside work.  Sam looked over at Dean, trying to puzzle him out. 

“What, Sam?”

“Dude, are we even going to try and find a case around here, or are we going to be stuck in Whoville all month?”

“Whoville?  Sam, that kind of talk makes me think you’re a Grinch.” Dean lifted his coffee cup for a refill and beamed at the waitress, who he’d caught staring at his little brother. 

“Yeah, ok.  Guess that makes you Cindy Lou Who, Dean.”  Sam tried to suppress a smile, and couldn’t.  He started laughing at the thought of Dean as the little blond girl approaching the Grinch as Santa. 

Dean just sat back and took it.  Seeing Sam truly laugh was worth whatever Sam had to throw at him.  Plus, he felt light-hearted.  “Well, a hunt around here would surprise me, Sam.  This place is very Norman Rockwell, you know?”

Sam glanced at Dean, surprised at the reference.  “Yeah, agreed.  So, what, we holing up here?  Or do you want to move on?”  Sam had had a good time this afternoon, he had to admit to himself.  And the town seemed cozy – small, but easy enough to lose yourself in.  And to not hunt…Sam hadn’t been back in the game that long, but already he was mentally weary.   

Dean watched his little brother.  Emotions flitted across his face, and Dean knew every single one.  Sam needed this.  He needed time to heal.  Dean wanted to give Sam a normal Christmas, wanted to give them both time to mend the wounds in their hearts and minds.  They were off the grid, it wouldn’t be a problem.  “We’re staying, Sammy,” Dean said softly, “if that’s ok with you.”

The waitress brought by slices of warm pecan pie and fresh coffee.  Sam took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and nodded at Dean.  “Yeah, Dean, ok.”  He knew his brother wanted to stay, and honestly, the respite would be welcome.  “What are we going to do for money though?”

Dean already knew the answer to that.  The motel needed a handyman, and well, a town like this could always use a general helper.  And he knew about small towns like this.  You pitch in and help, people help you out, too. 

*****

A couple weeks in, Sam and Dean found themselves doing lots of small jobs for everyone in town.  The motel’s owner, widowed Mrs. Benning, let them stay free of charge for helping out in town and at her place.  The diner always had meals fresh and hot for them, and soon, everyone knew Sam and Dean.  They had multiple invites for Christmas Day, and to Sam’s surprise, Dean turned them all down.  When Sam finally asked him, Dean only replied, “Christmas is about family and home, Sam.  We have plans.”

Dean never stopped in his holiday euphoria.  They decorated their snowman motel room, making it even more gaudy and glitzed.  They made a snowman taller than Sam, and joined the kids at Dixon’s Creek making snow angels on the banks of the river, watching out for the little ones.  Dean helped decorate the elementary school, the bank and the post office, and was working weekends with the Ladies Auxiliary, baking cookies and pies and breads for the annual bake sale.

Sam had become completely enchanted with Holiday Hills.  He spent time at the library, researching _(just for fun, Dean still chuckled at that)_ , and reading stories like The Night Before Christmas to the toddler group for Story Circle.  Kids loved him, they tried to climb him like a tree.  He got his morning coffee at Bean There, caught up on the local news, and usually took a brisk walk around town before Dean was even awake.  Sam felt more open than he had ever been.  His smiles came easily.  The bickering with Dean dissipated.  Now it was just banter, the fun found again in their brotherhood. 

*****

The more time Dean spent with Sam enjoying their “vacation”, the more he found he really just liked being with Sam, the person that Sam was, not just the brother.  The sound of Sam’s laugh was like a bell, clear and deep and sweetly ringing.  The humming sound Sam made when he was doing things like dishes or laundry was endearing.  The natural sparkle in Sam’s eyes made Dean’s dance as well, and the smiles.  Neither boy realized their own smiles completely melted the other, and that each did everything they could to make that smile appear in the other. 

But the townspeople of Holiday Hills noticed.  Mrs. Benning was asked of their relationship.  As far as she knew, they were just two good boys.  She had no idea they were brothers, thought they were just close friends.  Mr. Wilson took it upon himself to tell the town gossip Mrs. McCreary that “those two boys oughta just be together already.” 

And Mrs. McCreary started the telephone tree that alerted those with the need to know (town elders, church board, ladies auxiliary) that those two boys loved each other and just didn’t know how to say it.

Holiday Hills was going to give a Christmas Miracle to the Winchester brothers.

*****

Operation Mistletoe.  Betsy, the diner waitress, named it.  Mrs. McCreary thought it too obvious.  Mr. Wilson didn’t care what it was called; he just wanted those boys to kiss already. 

Three days before Christmas, mistletoe sprung up all over Holiday Hills.  Every house, every shop, every place of business had some hanging in the doorway.  Betsy had hung some up above the boys’ favorite booth at the diner.  Mrs. Benning had hung some in their motel room.  Mr. Arnold even had some hanging in the auto shop, and from every car being worked on since Dean often dropped by, Sam in tow.

Everywhere the boys went, people would stop and say things like, “You’re under the mistletoe, you have to kiss” or “Christmas rules, you gotta do it” or “C’mon, give him a peck.”  Sam was baffled.  Dean just went with it, kissing Sam on the cheek or forehead like he did when he was little.  He thought the townspeople were goofy, but fun loving.  And, he really didn’t mind, anyway.  Sam’s eyes would widen and he’d make this little sound when he breathed out that Dean discovered he wanted to hear again. 

*****

Dean drug Sam all over town.  He said it was to wish people a Merry Christmas and that after all they’d been given that month, to say thank you and be good neighbors.

Sam knew though, knew that Dean just wanted a reason to kiss him.  He didn’t know exactly how he knew that, but the butterflies he always felt when Dean gave him that giant smile that said no one else around them existed; he felt them whenever Dean brushed his lips softly against his face. 

And then there was that current of something between them.  It was new, different, scary and thrilling.  Sam felt it whenever Dean touched him, and it wasn’t from the cold outside or static electricity.  Something more.  Sam thought he might be being silly.  Dean was his brother, and surely.  No.

Right?  But Dean kept kissing him under the mistletoe, chastely.  And every so often he’d reach to take Sam’s hand.  And the looks lately.  Looks of what Sam often saw when girls looked at Dean.  Or what Betsy the waitress gave when she looked at him.  Or used to, anyway.  Betsy had practically gone from mooning over him to just grinning like a fool at them both the last few days.

Sam wasn’t sure what to do with what all those thoughts jumbled in his head might mean.  He loved Dean.  Always had.  And his brother always took care of Sam, trying to give him as normal a home, as normal a life, as normal a Christmas as he possibly could.  And now, here.  Dean was a different person.

No.  Not different.  Dean was the same as he’d ever been.  Sam had changed.  Or maybe they both had?  Sam felt like he was trapped in a Hallmark Christmas movie.  But he didn’t know the plot. 

*****

While Dean was drinking a cup of eggnog and talking to the guys in the auto shop, Sam walked over to the town square’s Christmas tree.  Snow crunched under his feet, and he saw Mr. Wilson sitting on a bench inside the open gazebo. 

“Mr. Wilson,” called Sam.  Sam trotted over to the elderly gentleman and sat down next to him.  “Mr. Wilson, its cold out and going to snow tonight.  What are you doing out here?  It’s Christmas eve.”

Mr. Wilson just stared up at the Christmas tree another minute before slightly turning to Sam.  “He’s a good man, Sam. “

Sam felt like his world was about to tilt on its axis.  “You mean Dean is?  I know that.”

“Then why are you fighting it, son?”  Mr. Wilson looked directly into Sam’s eyes and Sam saw the challenge there.  As well as the warmth, the non-judgment. 

“I-I, well.  Mr. Wilson, I do love him.  He’s a good man, I know.  He’s also my brother.”  And then Sam cast his eyes down, a blush tinting his cheeks that had nothing to do with the blowing wind.

“Mmhmm.  Yeah, I know, son.” 

“You do?  How did you-“

“I pay attention, Sam.  But you love Dean, yes?”  And he waited for Sam to answer him.  “Really love him?”

Sam raised his eyes to look again at the man he’d been playing chess with in the library, the man who spent time drinking coffee in the bookshop with him, the man who’d been a confidante of sorts this last month. “I do.  I shouldn’t, but yeah, I think I really do.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with love, son.”  And Mr. Wilson looked again up to the twinkling tree.  “Love comes in all forms.  What you and Dean have, that ain’t normal.  I don’t mean, it ain’t normal ‘cause he’s your brother.  I mean it ain’t normal, ‘cause not many folks find that kind of love in their lives, ever.”

Sam thought about that for a minute.  He and Dean had never been normal.  Not by society’s standards.  They never would be.  The love he felt for Dean could not be neatly explained or expressed.  It couldn’t be described or put into a tidy little box.  The more he thought about it, the more the butterflies grew.  Sam thought he was going to hyperventilate. 

Mr. Wilson chuckled.  “Yeah, I get that feeling.  When I think about Matthew, I still get that feeling.  Don’t worry, son, you’re going to be ok.  Deep breaths.  Finding out you’re in love with someone ain’t something you take lightly.”  Mr. Wilson started rubbing Sam’s back in circles, glanced over to see Dean walking up.  “Gonna let you boys be for a bit.” 

As he got up to leave, Sam, grabbed his sleeve.  “Mr. Wilson?  Who is Matthew?”

Smiling down gently at Sam, he replied, “Matthew was my cousin.  And the love of my life.  We were raised together after his parents died while we were both toddlers.  Sometimes you can’t help who you love, son.”  And he walked away.

Dean had reached Sam by the time Mr. Wilson had walked over to the coffee shop.  “What was that all about?  Sam?  Sammy, are you ok?  It’s freezing out here, let’s go back to the motel.  Mrs. Benning made us hot apple cider.”

“Dean, wait.”  Sam looked up at his brother.  His eyes were shining wet with unfallen tears.  How in the world was he supposed to tell Dean he loved him, like that?  Dean was going to hate him.  Or maybe not.  Dean had been acting a little strange himself lately.  Maybe Sam wasn’t alone.  _Deep breaths._ “Dean.  I need to tell you something.”

*****

Dean bit his lip nervously.  Here it comes.  Sam was pissed.  Sam was upset because Dean had kept kissing him everywhere they went.  Dean couldn’t even help it; he wanted to be with Sam. 

He didn’t know why he never realized it before.  Everything had always been about Sam in his life, but this last month in Holiday Hills really changed his view on how and why that was.  He enjoyed making Sam laugh.  He liked taking care of Sam.  He saw the man Sam had become, and he loved him for it.  Sam’s quirks sometimes pissed him off, but that was the brother talking.  The other person talking, the one that had somewhere along the way fallen in love with his baby brother, that one thought even with his quirks, Sam was pretty amazing.  Damn amazing.    

But Sam had obviously figured it out and was going to leave Dean this time because of it.  Dean steeled himself.  All he ever wanted to give Sam was family and love and home.  Why couldn’t he see that was Dean?  So yeah, they were brothers, but in the long-

“-so yeah, that’s what you should know.  I love you.”

“Sam?”  Dean had stopped breathing.  Seconds of silence that felt like minutes.

“Dean, didn’t you hear anything I’ve just said?”  Sam was afraid to look at Dean.

“Sammy, did you just say you love me?”  Dean still couldn’t breathe.  Was he hearing right?

“Yeah, Dean.  I did.  And I know you-“

“You’re not leaving me?”  Dean was trying to breathe, he really was.

“Leaving?  Why would I be leaving you when I just told you I loved you?”  Sam was starting to feel tension; it was winding low in his gut.  He hadn’t felt this way truly since before they had arrived.  Dean was gonna take a swing at him.  He knew it.

“Sam.”  “Sam.”  “SAM!”  And Sam looked up at Dean, ready to take it.  He inhaled and held his breath, waiting.   

“You love me.  Like.  You _love_ me?”  Dean was looking down at Sam, his eyes shining too, ready to lay it all on the line for him. 

Sam blew out the breath.  And remained breathless.  He nodded his head, yes.  Afraid to blink.  Afraid to breathe. 

And then most of the population of Holiday Hills in on Operation Mistletoe watched from house and shop windows as Dean dropped to his knees in the snow.  He leaned into Sam’s space, and looked up.  There was mistletoe garland all around the edge of the gazebo.

It started snowing.

The town clock struck midnight.

And Dean kissed Sam on the lips.  The kiss was full of tender sweet promise.  It was a present, wrapped up in the best kind of package.   It lasted through every peal of the church bells ringing out Christmas day as Sam kissed Dean back.

The boys walked back to the motel, hugging each other, trading small kisses and rubbing noses.  As they passed Mr. Wilson, Sam heard a small, “Atta boy, son.”

Betsy and Mrs. McCreary started making plans for the diner on Christmas day.  Everyone was going to move their celebrations so the town could come together and be with each other.  Their family, their home.  Holiday Hills.  Which now included Sam and Dean.

The next morning Sam woke to find himself snuggled up against Dean.  He stretched out and lazily looked around their room.  _Wait._

He and Dean were sharing a bed?  And they both fit.  He glanced up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  Santas covered every available space in the room.  The wallpaper was a million Santas of every kind.  The bed – the bed they both fit on, was king sized.  And the comforter was a giant red fluffy one, wrapped like a gift. 

Sam knew they hadn’t been drinking.  Did they go to the wrong room?  All he and Dean had done was cuddle and trade kisses and whisper to each other through the night.  He wasn’t even sure when they had fallen asleep. 

He snuck out of bed, Dean mumbling and grabbing for Sam’s pillow to replace the loss of warmth.  Sam walked around the room.  All their stuff had been moved.  The kitchenette was fully stocked with breakfast fixings.  Under the tree – oh hey, a Christmas tree in their room! – were a few packages.  Some for Sam, some for Dean.  And a letter.

_Boys,_

_About time.  Been waiting a while for you two to catch up to each other.  Enjoy your lives, enjoy each other.  Love while you can.  You always have a home here in Holiday Hills, but I suspect you’ll be moving along in a week or so.  Don’t forget to come back here, recharge your batteries now and again.  You’re a part of this town._

_Santa_

Sam started laughing.  _Santa?  Seriously?_ There was no other way to explain everything else.  Sam decided not to question it for once. 

He climbed back in the bed with Dean who spooned him immediately, kissing the back of his neck.  It was Christmas day.  Sam had his family, his love and his home.  Not just in Holiday Hills.  It was wherever Dean was.   That was Christmas.  He finally understood what Dean had been trying to tell him for so long.

  



End file.
